The Door of Time
by Serena90
Summary: Draco Malfoy is in trouble. He's treading a thin line trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, when the Room of Requirements gives him a way out. Will he make things better or worse? Time-travel. Slash. Mpreg.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

Draco Malfoy was trembling as he paced in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The first time he had come across it in his first year, he had burst into a fit of giggles at the thought of training trolls to dance ballet. Until his fourth year, he always couldn't help but snicker. During his fifth year, he snorted. Now, he couldn't even crack a weak smile.

He wished things were as simple as they had been before his fourth year. He had been _happy_. Not always, of course, but even with Potter and his gang humiliating him at every turn, he had been _content_. He could barely remember either of these feelings. Since his introduction to pureblood society, his whole life had just started to crumble, only to completely collapse at the end of his fifth year with his Father's imprisonment.

When his Father had finally allowed him to participate in some "adult" events, he had acted childishly and had embarrassed his Family. It hadn't been intentional, on the contrary, he had tried to imitate Father. However, he had only come across as a pompous weakling who basked in his Father's glory. He blushed, mortified, thinking of his behaviour during the Quidditch World Cup and the Darell's family Yule celebration. He had been utterly ridiculous and not fit of the name of Malfoy.

The resurrection of the Dark Lord had only worsened the situation. Having to cohabitate with a demented yet powerful Dark Lord who resented his Family had only been the beginning. It had been hard to assimilate that his home, his Ancestral Family Manor, was now the headquarters of a mad dark wizard who, for all his propaganda, had no respect of pureblood traditions. The first time he had seen his proud Father kneel to kiss the hem of his Master's robe, a small part of him had died.

His Father's imprisonment had been simply terrible. A harsh blow Draco could barely cope with. His esteemed Father, his Patriarch, was rotting away in Azkaban. His Family Name was dishonoured. The Dark Lord had never been angrier with the Malfoys. Before, when he left the Manor, it had been easy to pretend everything was alright. Draco had always been good at self-delusion, now, he couldn't escape reality. Now, he had been given a mission that he was positive would be his Family's death.

He tried, of course, he wished for nothing more than to protect his Family. As any good pureblood would want to protect their line. However, he knew the true purpose of the mission was for the half-blood to find an excuse to kill them. The only reason he hadn't yet was because of the stir it would suppose among the Death Eaters. After all, if the powerful, pureblood Malfoys weren't safe of their Master's ire roused without any provocation, who would be?

Killing Dumbledore, sneaking Death Eaters into Hogwarts. How was he, a mere sixteen year old, supposed to do what entire generations of dark wizards had failed at? Killing the Light Lord, breaking some of the most powerful wards in the British Wizarding World.

It had been at night, suffering from insomnia, when he had had a stroke of genius. He had gone into the Requirement Room before and had seen a cabinet that was exactly like the Vanishing Cabinet at Borgin&Burkes whose partner was missing. It had given him _hope_ that maybe, his Family would survive this. He had purchased the Vanishing Cabinet and once in Hogwarts had gone to find its counterpart.

It was broken. He had delved into magics so complex to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. Arithmancy, runes, rituals, light magic, dark magic,... it didn't matter, he couldn't repair it. He had never studied so much magic theory in his life, some concepts were so convoluted it had taken him hours to comprehend. He slept 4 hours a day at best, spent 1 hour in total eating, he had even dropped as many subjects as possible to reduce his class time. He had tried to give himself as much time as possible. Yet, he could feel it in his blood. Failure. Looming over him like a Grimm.

Draco closed his eyes to stop a stream of tears. He had to stop thinking about how much he wished he was back in fourth year and focus on his mission. He sighed and opened his mercury eyes again, prepared to walk three time again in front of the Room of Requirement. But there was already a door.

It was different than the door Draco was used to seeing. The door to the Room of Hidden Things had been plain, not enough to be conspicuous in a castle yet missable. This door was grand, it claimed attention even in a castle. It was a double door, high and wide, framed with stone vines surrounding it. He couldn't recognize the wood but it was a rich tone of reddish brown that contrasted elegantly with the light grey stones enveloping it. The silver handle was well-polished and inviting.

He paused. The Room of Requirement always gave what was required. But he couldn't see what sort of response his thoughts could have gained, a place to sleep and relax? Or maybe, this was Hogwarts' way to get rid of him. He knew the ancient castle was sentient although he didn't know to what degree. It was logical the school would try to eliminate the threat.

But why would Hogwarts try to make him disappear now? Now that he had no hope left? It would have been more logical to do it back when he felt there was hope. Besides, so far Hogwarts hadn't tried to hurt him. Yes, the stairs were being particularly difficult and some of the corridors had vanished when he was running out of time to class, making him late. But nothing outright harmful had happened. Hogwarts was more benign than Malfoy Fortress or even Malfoy Manor, especially since he was a student.

He stepped forward and caressed the handle as he put his other hand on the door. He had always been magic sensitive and offensive magic had a very distinctive feeling. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on the magic. The blond frowned, it was powerful and at the same time vague. The intent of the magic wasn't clear. It didn't seem to seek harm yet it didn't feel inoffensive either. He had never felt anything like it.

He nibbled his pink lower lip nervously. It didn't feel harmful. And the Dark Lord planned to kill his entire family so what did he have to lose? He grasped the silver ring and pushed the door, it was rather heavy, obviously no one had bothered with light-weight charms. He stepped forward cautiously as he pushed the door.

He felt a rush of magic enveloping his body as he went in for a few seconds, making him instinctively close his eyes. The magic had been like a gust of wind, tinted with blue. The magic felt different to anything he had felt before, it wasn't harmful or protective...

It was dark. Draco opened his silver eyes hesitantly only to be greeted by his room in Malfoy Manor. He huffed, so much drama for a representation of his room but it wasn't exactly like his own bedroom. He couldn't exactly say what was different: the walls were a pale slightly grey blue; his enormous his elaborately carved wooden Tuscano bed, with its high arched panel headboard and four high posts; his fringed bed bench, its cushions covered in soft golden and rich blue velvet; his Villagio hazelnut armoire; his dresser mirror; his favourite paintings,...

He gasped. One of the tapestries was the one he had when he was younger, as well as a painting and that beautiful small statue of a dragon that a house-elf had broken. So the room had replicated his room from a couple of years ago. He sighed and went to his bed to lay down for a while.

He frowned. His bed was higher than normal. Maybe the room had taken his perception of the room when he was younger? It was certainly higher for him then. He went to take off his tie only to realise he wasn't wearing his uniform. Instead of his uniform he was wearing his forest green robe, he remembered that summer robe, he had liked it up until Blaise had joked saying he looked like a nymph.

Did the room just change his clothes? Well, they were more comfortable than the uniform. But to sleep, he preferred his pyjamas. He stood up to go into his dressing room, but as he passed his mirror dresser he paused. He stared at it. He seemed younger. He looked bloody fourteen years old!

What did this mean? Had the room decided to replicate his life as when he was fourteen? But the Room of Requirement couldn't affect one's body. And as he touched his body he could feel that it was his younger body. What had happened? Did this mean he was fourteen again? Or more bizarrely, did this mean he had gone back in time? Had the door been some sort of portal?

"Poppy!", he called for his personal elf.

With a muffled pop, the female house-elf appeared in front of him, "Master Draco, is there something Poppy can do for you?"

He bit his lower lip, he couldn't ask for the date, that would be too suspicious, "What are my appointments for today?"

"Master Draco is having brunch with Heir Blaise Zabini and Mr Theodore Nott, then Master Draco is going to Twilfit and Tattings with Mistress Narcissa at half past five. Master Draco is having dinner with the Masters and business partners of Master Lucius at nine o'clock"

Draco closed his eyes, he remembered that day. It had been the day Blaise had commented on how he looked like a nymph with this robe and he had fumed quite loudly. He had been in a foul mood all day afterwards. He had been disrespectful to some influential people at the taylor and then his polite attitude at dinner had been glaringly fake. He winced at the memory.

The dinner hadn't been extremely important, in fact, his parents had wanted to use it as practice before the real deal. But it had been the first dinner he had been acknowledged as more than a child and he had ruined in such a spectacular way. He closed his eyes. His mind was swirling with the implications and consequences of being fourteen years old again. This was his chance to make everything better. He was prepared this time. He knew how to act in social events as an adult now. He knew about Voldemort's return. He wouldn't make the same mistakes.


	2. Chapter 1

AN: I wanted to use this chapter to portrait how Draco's interaction's with his friends are, I made him particularly giddy at the beginning because I believe that after so many months of the strictest self-control, he's going to be a bit high with the freedom.

Chapter 1

Draco walked down the stairs to wait for his friends in the Floo room of the south wing of the manor. Last time, he had made them wait for almost a half an hour, the blond suspected that might have incited the comment about his robe. This time, he wanted to be there to greet them, not only because it was rude to make them wait despite being close friends but because he had learned not to let anyone roam around his wing alone. He mentally winced remembering some of the curses the Death Eaters had placed around, it was now automatic to accompany all the people who went into his side of the manor. He would grow anxious if he had to leave them alone.

He walked into the Floo room, rolling his eyes at how childish he had been, decorating the small room with forest greens and silver touches to proclaim his house to all his visitors. Slytherin pride. It had been his way to revere the Dark Lord too since he was a descendent of Lord Slytherin. How naïve could he be? Slytherin had been a part of the equation during the war but it was only the cover.

The grey marble fireplace roared announcing his friend's arrival. Blaise Zabini stepped out of the enormous fireplace with the ease of a pureblood, brushing non-existent pieces of ash. He looked so young, although he had always been taller than Draco, he was a few inches shorter than he had been as a sixteen year old. He was slimmer and his masculine broad shoulders weren't there yet.

"Blaise!", he greeted him, smiling as he approached his fellow Slytherin.

It had been so long since the last time he had been able to converse with his friend without the tense undertones. He had worried about slipping something he shouldn't, he stressed because Blaise was neutral and some of his affirmations could be taken as him trying to scout his Italian friend, but at the same time he was supposed to speak only preaches of his Lord.

He hugged him tightly and Blaise responded his embrace. Draco sighed contently, refraining his urge to snuggle closer. When he had been fourteen, he had been too prickly to hug his friend anymore, believing he was too old for hugs. Once the Dark Lord started living in the manor, he had wanted no more than feeling the protective warmth he felt in a hug.

Blaise gave the best hugs, even better than his own mother or father. Although, in his parents' defence, they hadn't been embraced a lot through their childhoods since it was considered a sign of weakness and the parents-child relationship was more distant. While Blaise and Mrs Zabini's relationship was warmer, probably due to Italian culture. His friend's hugs were more natural and less stiff than his parents'.

He was sure that if he wasn't friends with Blaise, he wouldn't receive any hugs at all, except the occasional awkward embrace from his mother. His Italian friend was affectionate by nature, and since his English friends refused to be greeted by one kiss on each cheek, he had resorted to giving wonderful hugs. Spurred by Blaise, the tight group of friends were more "touchy-feely" than was considered normal in English aristocracy which was why the only acted that way in strict privacy.

"Draco, I see that you missed me", teased the older wizard, parting from their hug.

"Maybe because someone has barely written more than two letters this entire summer", he answered with only the slightest reproach on his tone.

"Barely more than two letters? I wrote at least ten and it's only the first of August!", responded amused the Italian.

"Yes, well, but you were in Italy with all your family, while I was here in all my lonesome", he huffed dramatically, it felt good to be able to behave as childish as he wanted and he knew Blaise wouldn't use it against him.

Blaise laughed, "I did invite you"

"You just wanted me to get burnt again, like last year", he pouted.

"But of course! You turned the most captivating shade of pink", joked the foreigner.

"Not everyone can tan like you! You, you caramel-turning-wizard!", he exclaimed with theatrical anger, waving his index as he pointed his friend.

Chuckles were heard from the fireplace, Theo stood there staring at them with mirth in his honey eyes. Draco blushed realising he had been so immersed in the little fake fight he hadn't even heard the fireplace roar. He really had gone overboard but it felt so good not to be constantly restrained. He felt carefree and happy. He supposed he was in a high, he just hoped that he wouldn't crush too badly when he had to return to self-control at the taylor and during dinner.

"Good afternoon", smirked the dark haired wizard.

"Hello", responded with his cheeks still coloured pink the blond.

"Hi, Theo!", said enthusiastically the Italian engulfing their friend in a hug.

Draco watched them smiling, there was always something humorous about seeing open and expressive Blaise with studious and introspective Theo. The eldest of the trio stood stoically letting their friend hug him in greeting, putting his hands on his back before moving back. He wasn't surprised when he didn't receive a hug and was gifted with a small smile instead, Theo wasn't as keen on physical contact as Blaise.

"Now that we're all here, shall we move to the yellow dinning room?", Draco suggested before heading to the dinning room.

The small dinning room was painted with a yellow and off white paper, there were two large windows that faced a small patio and were framed with golden and yellow curtains. The round wooden dinner table was in the centre of the square room and there were three side chairs around it. The table ornament was a simple bouquet of white and yellow narcissus. It was a quite intimate dinning room due to its size and Draco only used it when he was going to eat with Blaise or Theo or both.

"I still can't believe that you used yellow to decorate, I thought it was a Hufflepuff colour?", teased Blaise.

Draco shrugged elegantly, "It's a Hufflepuff colour when they don't know how to use it"

"So everyone but you?", asked Blaise arching an eyebrow.

"That's not true Lady Yaxley has the most lovely drawing room, how a witch whose taste is so exquisite married such a brute is something I can't understand", he answered dismissing his comment.

Blaise rolled his green eyes, "Yes, Draco, we know, you fell in love when you saw the decorations of their Yule ball, even though we were on the children's side. How long have you had this crush? Five years?"

"I don't have a crush!", exclaimed blushing the Malfoy, "I just appreciate her taste, that's all"

The Nott Heir snorted, "That's an understatement. You love the interior design of every single room of Yaxley Manor and there're, what, two hundred?"

"Well, I don't like the gallery rooms and the Lord Yaxley's study and office are atrocious",refuted stubbornly the blond.

"You do realise those are the only rooms not decorated by Lady Yaxley, don't you?", smirked Blaise.

"Enough about my non-existent crushes! How did it go with Phillipa this July?", he asked smiling, he knew they had snogged that summer.

Phillipa was the fourth daughter from a rather prominent Italian family. Blaise had met her when he was eight years old and had fallen head over heels, since then, he had pursued her relentlessly. Although when he was eight years old that meant her giving her his share of dessert and lending her his practice broom.

Draco had the suspicion that both families had already written a marriage contract and were just waiting to see whether either one would receive a creature inheritance. In the pureblood world, it wasn't odd to have some creature traits passed down through generations but no one knew for sure which traits were latent. So a pureblood could be part veela and need a particular mate, for instance, making the marriage contract void and null.

As expected, it was Blaise's turn to flush and try to look nonchalant, "We spent some enjoyable afternoons together"

"Which means he spent all afternoon trying to romance her while she smirked and let him make a fool of himself", translated Theodore smirking.

"That's not how it went at all!... Ok, maybe there's a slight similarity"


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Draco stepped out of the fireplace gracefully into the clients welcoming area. A petite redhead witch who was sitting behind a desk hurried to approach them and greet them by their titles. The blond couldn't help but see the stark difference of how he was being treated now and how he had been treated a few mere hours ago in the future. When his Family Name had been disgraced, the witch wouldn't have even greeted them and would have gone to ask the taylor whether he was allowed to be there. What he had lost... But this time he wouldn't lose it, he'd make sure of it.

"And Taylor Twilfit has the most wonderful designs for this fall", chatted inanely the redhead witch as his Mother nodded nonchalantly.

At that precise moment, Taylor Twilfit came out to greet them looking as though he had rushed to get there, "Lady Malfoy, Heir Malfoy, it's a pleasure to have you here"

Strangely enough, the blond felt as though the brunette Taylor gaze stopped on him longer than last time. But what was the difference? He was just wearing the green robe, Blaise hadn't made any comment, so he hadn't changed it this time. He supposed it was less formal than what the older wizard was used to seeing him in. It was still traditional but the cut and form wasn't so harsh, the green robe fell more gently to the floor and the material was thinner.

The tall Taylor walked them to an spacious room, there was a model catwalk in the centre of the room and there were some comfortable seats around the end. His Mother and Draco sat down elegantly, while Taylor Twilfit asked them what sort of fashion they wanted to see. The blond Slytherin wondered why he always asked, he knew Mother would answer traditional fashion. The Malfoys would never go around looking like muggles. Maybe he hoped for another answer? After all, every Taylor loved to see the Malfoys in their designs, not only were they powerful and, therefore, great publicity, but they were all beautiful and made their products glow.

The brunette wizard nodded and went behind the vaporous curtains to instruct the models on what to wear most likely. The redhead witch came over and inquired what would they like to drink, Mother answered champagne and Draco said he didn't want anything. Soon enough, a pale blond witch (since the Taylor tried to match the clients colouring with his model's) walked through the scenario, wearing a traditional grey female robe.

The material shimmered slightly under the light and there was a band of precious stones on the shoulders, it had no cleavage and it wasn't as tight as many robes Draco had seen but it elegantly insinuated the female form. Last time, his Mother had loved it and bought it, she looked magnificent in that gown.

He looked at his Mother, her aristocratic face was blank but he could see the gleam in her blue eyes. He turned again to the gown, feeling his lips twitch upward, some things never changed. Taylor Twilfit came out, apparently done instructing the models and approached his Mother, asking her opinion. This process repeated itself quite a few times until his Mother declared it was Draco's turn, after all she had bought more than enough for the day.

The first couple of designs didn't rise the time traveller's interest, he was used to the stiff robes and he had enough of them. He wanted the perfect tunic for the Quidditch cup, last time he had just dosed in black clothing and he had had to constantly ask his mother for a cooling charm. He winced as he remembered it, the black robes hadn't been his first choice. He had wanted to go with a really elegant blue robe, Mother had seen him and told him to change saying he was going to watch Quidditch not to a fundraiser.

He hadn't had much time and could only change into the black robes, he had stood out like a sore thumb although not as much as he'd have with his blue robes. At the after-party he hadn't stood out so much but his attire left much to desire, it simply wasn't appropriate for the event. Last time, his taste had leaned towards the robes that reminded him of his Father, stiff and severe. His Mother hadn't let him buy anything too extreme and he was thankful, because now he knew they looked rather ridiculous on a teenager.

A blond model wizard walked out wearing a beautiful robe, it was a very pale shade of greyish mauve. It consisted on two layers, a thin almost transparent layer and the thicker layer beneath it that was a shade darker. A silk belt tightened the robe around the model's waist. It was simple. It had no embroidery or any other decorations. It was beautiful. He was sure he hadn't seen it last time, he'd have remembered it. It was perfect for the Quidditch cup, it was simple and definitely for summer yet elegant enough for the after-party.

The model turned around as though to leave and Draco abruptly said, "Stop"

Taylor Twilfit was looking at him curiously, he knew the Malfoy Heir's style well and the robe didn't seem to fit it. His Mother was staring at him too, surprised by his choice. The fair-haired Slytherin's style was so much more formal that Lady Malfoy often had to scold him. However, here he was, looking longingly to a much less stiff and more simple robe than usual.

The time-traveller stood up and approached the model, "Turn around, please"

The model followed his orders. Draco reached out and caressed the material, it was so soft. He really wanted it. It was perfect. He forced himself to maintain a stoic façade. Why the hell did he want so much a simple robe? It was true he hadn't been able to go shopping in ages but... Of course, in the other time he had never been able to dress in robes like these. At first, because he wanted to look adult like and felt it would damage that image. Then, when he finally wanted to give in to his craving, it wouldn't have been a good idea to dress robes like that in front of Death Eaters. The robe made the model look elegant in its simplicity, yet he also made him look... slightly fragile. He turned to face his mother.

"What do you think? For the Quidditch World Cup?", he asked.

Mother's blue eyes widened slightly in surprise, she most likely had expected to force him into a less formal robe for the Quidditch World Cup. Taylor Twilfit also seemed flabbergasted, had the Malfoy Heir's style changed? The young Master he knew wouldn't be seen dead in that robe. Draco stopped himself from nibbling his full lower lip, the silence was getting to him.

A small smile tugged Lady Malfoy's thin lips, "I think it's perfect, Draco. You'll have to get a cloak though, at night it'll be cooler"

The fourteen year old nodded in acquiescence, he'd need a cloak and comfortable shoes if the events from his other time line repeated. The brunette taylor put the robe aside and the collection show continued. Draco had liked a grey cloak, a pair of shoes which according to a muggle born who had tried to insult the Slytherin in the past looked like a girl's ballerinas, a belt, champagne robe for formal wear and a casual ink grey tunic. Once it was obvious Draco had tired of looking, Taylor Twilfit led them to the changing rooms.

"This is your changing room, Heir Malfoy, Alfred will come to make the modifications in a minute", stated the brunette

The brunette taylor signalled a small room in burgundy colours. In the middle of the room, there was a small platform where the client would stand while the taylor modified the robe in front of a golden mirror, a small table on which there were needles amongst other things and a sofa on the side for the client's company. Draco walked to the thick curtains at the end of the room and parted them, his pickings were already there some lying on the velvet bench and some hanging from a golden clothes hook. The time traveller closed the curtains behind him and started changing. He wondered whether the same as last time would happen.

_Flash back_

_The fourteen year old scowled, that taylor was taking his time. He had been there for at least fifteen minutes! The robe was becoming heavier. He shifted on the platform watching his reflection on the Rococo mirror: he was wearing a stern robe similar to his Father's, its cut was sharp and efficient and as the material was thick it fell heavily. He looked like his Father, a younger and weaker version of him at least. The though irritated him, why did he look weaker?_

_The door opened and an enormous wizard peeked in, sneering Draco exclaimed, "About time! I've been waiting for ages!"_

_The tall and well-built wizard came in, his clothes were richer than a mere taylor's but the blond paid no notice. Nor did he notice the irritation in the water green eyes. The Slytherin huffed, scolding the taylor and boasting about how his Father was going to hear of this in the most superior voice he could utter._

_End of flash back_

Draco sighed as he took off his green robe and his under-robe and started to change into the mauve robe. He had soon discovered he had offended Lord Eadred Ravensdale, an important benefactor of Twilfit and Tattings, who had in revenge humiliated him at every turn and as publicly as possible. Maybe this time he could handle it better? He thought for a moment as he walked to stand on the platform, he couldn't think of a polite way of saying 'why are you in my changing room?' but maybe he could just fake the confusion but be nicer. The idea had merit.

He looked into the mirror. The greyish mauve was so pale that it looked almost white in well-lit changing room. The material fell gracefully to the floor looking light and diffuse. It was beautiful. He had to make it tighter at the upper body though, even when he tied the silk belt around his waist it still looked slightly big and it was a bit too long. He caressed his sides, it was so soft. He wondered what the material was.

The door opened and a brunette peeked in, Draco turned his head and smiled, "Ah, you must be Alfred! I think we might have to make the upper body tighter and to make it a couple of inches shorter"

To his surprise, the Lord nodded, came in and closed the door behind him. He confidently approached the blond and took a couple of needles from the table. Draco controlled his astonishment so that it wouldn't reflect on his pale face, he had expected the aristocrat to correct him, why hadn't he?

The giant approached him, even though the Slytherin was on the platform the brunette was almost a feet taller than him, standing 6 feet and 5 inches tall. Gently, Ravensdale moved the long platinum blond from his back to over his left shoulder. His enormous hands, then, with the same gentleness undid his belt and tightened the robe around him before he fixed it with the needles. The warm hands rested on his waist.

"Such a tiny waist", whispered almost in awe the Lord.

The fair-haired wizard stared down at the enormous hands uncomprehending, they were wrapped around his waist, the fingers almost meeting each other. The brunette moved closer to him until Draco could almost feel his all his back touching the Lord's front. He felt the aristocrat's breath against his uncovered long elegant neck, his head jerked up to see from the mirror that the older wizard was bending to... kiss his neck?

The Slytherin Prince pulled away, putting his hand on the other's abdomen to stop him from coming closer, his voice weak and confused when he asked, "What-what are you doing?"

The thin lips had just started to pull in a smirk when the door opened again, Wilbur Norton, a close friend of Lord Ravensdale called, "Eadred?"

"Here", simply said the aristocrat, Draco made sure to widen his eyes in surprise.

The golden blond Norton entered the room pausing when he saw the situation. A petite blond had his small hand on his friend's abdomen as though to keep him away and the brunette was smirking like a cat that ate the canary. The beautiful teenager seemed confused and it was obvious from his posture and manner that he was a client not a model. The blond dropped his hand. The blue eyed adult opened his mouth to ask when Taylor Twilfit walked into the room.

"Lord Ravensdale, Mr Norton! What a pleasure to see you!", greeted them the taylor.

"Taylor Twilfit", responded the smirking pureblood.

"Do you know each other?", asked with curiosity looking at Draco and Eadred.

"OH, no! I was looking for you when I came in, I just stopped to compliment him on his magnificent choice", said the aristocrat.

"It is, indeed, an excellent choice, Heir Malfoy. The colouring suits you well", praised enthusiastically Twilfit.

Both Ravensdale and Norton looked astonished to hear the delicate fair-haired wizard was a Malfoy and not only a Malfoy but the Heir. After a second, they hid their bewilderment. Draco smirked. He loved the reactions when people found out of his ancestry.

"Well, young Malfoy, we should leave to start our meeting. We will meet again", smirked confidently the Lord, eyeing the lithe blond before abandoning the room followed by his companion and the taylor.

-Author note-

Thanks for reviewing everyone, it cheered me up a lot :)

This story's chapters won't usually consists in only an afternoon. I just wanted to expose how well respected the Malfoys were with the VIP treatment, to show how Draco has changed from that fourteen year old that only wants to emulate his father and to introduce Ravensdale.

By the way, I want to say that I'll take longer to update because my writing is distracting me from my studies and it's reflecting on my marks. If any of you is a beta and is interested in helping me with the stories I might get to update faster and their help would be greatly appreciated!


	4. Petition

_Dear readers,_

_I'm sorry this isn't a new chapter. This is a petition for the destruction of stories to end. It's just temporal and soon enough I'll update my stories :) Could you please spread it around?_

_Thank you very much,_

_Serena90_

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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Agato the Venom

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